


One in the Ring

by glaringdad



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wrestling, Domestic, M/M, Ultimate Fighting Championship, dom frank, sub gerard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glaringdad/pseuds/glaringdad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When wrestling and missed opportunities for great sex unite. </p><p>Frank is a tiny fighter with an acute Napoleon complex, Gerard is his ringside sweetheart who also thoroughly enjoys gardening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One in the Ring

“Finish him! Beat him to the ground!” There was almost a chorus that rushed over the arena, and Frank stood centre ring bouncing from toe to toe. Teddyfoot Junior circled him, curling his top lip up over his teeth and shaking his head in such a violent motion it suggested he had been infected with rabies.

“You’re going _down!”_ Teddyfoot balled up his fingers and threw his fist in Frank’s general direction. Frank ducked, and opted for an elbow into Teddyfoot’s core.

 _“And there goes the Spazzmanian Devil, straight for the gut—whether or not the ref will call a foul is undecided yet but—oh folks, I’m being told now that we are playing by house rules tonight. I repeat tonight we are playing by house rules! Spazzmanian Devil is in the clear.”_ An announcer sat in a glass box that had been tucked neatly between two sets of bleachers, and he spoke into a microphone that circled the proximity.

Mugsies was an underground wrestling arena located in central New York. Take a left into the _boiler room crew ONLY_ door right off a set of subway tracks and you could be standing square in the middle of Big Daddy Ray’s office. His name was Ray Toro really, but the ringside groupies liked calling him Big Daddy. Made him feel proud and paid well. Ray bought Mugsies off of his ex-brother-in-law seven years prior, at the time it was just a warehouse. After nine months of negotiating with his wife and swindling the bank into a _small business, I swear_ loan, _Steve’s Wonder Warehouse_ was reborn.

Tonight Ray sat behind his little steel desk and watched the fight on his cereal box sized television that showed him a live play by play feed of what was going on. Frank Iero versus John Cider. To the public they were the Spazzmanian Devil and Teddyfoot Junior going head to head in what would be one of the last fights of the season. Ray’s feet danced over the linoleum tiles, and he slammed his fist on his mouse pad.

 _“Come on Frank! Show him up! Get in there bloody fuck!”_ as if Frank could hear him through the glitched screen, he leaped up onto Teddyfoot and wrapped his fingers around his shoulders, and used his feet to propel from Teddyfoot’s chest. Teddyfoot didn’t stir a bit, and Frank pushed himself against the ring’s fat elastic holding bands.

What happened next could have made headlines for minor radio broadcasts from coast to coast (saying per so, if this broadcast was nationwide and these actions were _legal_ to say the least). Frank built up tension between the elastics, pulling back, pulling back, pulling back—his eyes narrowed, set against Teddyfoot’s and he bent his knees until he was a quarter of the way into a squat.

 _Fuck you_ was branded across Frank’s face, and he let go of the elastics. Teddyfoot took no time in reacting when he saw Frank hurtling towards him at motor speed. Teddyfoot was smart. Teddyfoot knew tactic and was nimble on his limbs. Frank lived for each moment. Every variety of brash ran through his veins and his fists were loose cannons. He was bred to the highest degree of addiction.

Teddyfoot slipped to the right of the ring. Frank flew overhead, his face turned pink and the whites of his eyes were more prominent than anything else. His arms were still bent at the elbows, his fingers were twitching

Frank landed on the referee.

The arena fell silent for a short period. The weight of Frank had twisted the referee’s arm in such a fashion that his inner elbow protruded, and the top of his hand faced the sky, backwards.

Gerard was sitting side stage, then heaving into a large plastic bin near the arena’s doors. His face was redder than Sunday’s heat, sweat being pulled from his temples, his hairline to the tip of his nose and dripping into the trash. Wrestling was never for the squeamish—but, in retrospect, what kind of ringside sweetheart would Gerard be if he wasn’t present to watch Frank fight (and win, usually)? Someone placed their hand on the small of Gerard’s back, rubbing in circles.

“Hey Gee. Can’t handle a few odd angles?” Jessica Lee, Teddyfoot Junior’s fiancée was especially quiet that evening. Often she could be heard trash talking any of Teddyfoot’s competition.

“Don’t touch me,” Gerard said, swatting her palm from his back.

“Come on. You can’t _seriously_ be gay, right? I mean look at all the hot women in the world, and you choose a fucking midget man with a Napoleon complex?”

“Please leave me alone,” Gerard turned back to the bin, letting green spit spill from his lips.

“It’s because of his physique, right? Like, I can see where you’re coming from. He’s small, curvy. Pretty eyes.”

“Jessica, could I please have some peace and quiet?”

Jessica stepped closer, until she was almost nose to nose with Gerard.

“You smell fucking awful,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear.

“Please don’t.”

Jessica brushed her fingers along Gerard’s leg and let them pulsate.

“One night, Gerard. One night with me is all it takes—“

_“What?”_

“Just let me show you what the touch of a _real_ woman is like. Come on,” Jessica slid her hand to fit into Gerard’s back pocket.

“Leave me alone!” Gerard pressed his palms against Jessica’s chest and pushed her back into the concrete wall. Jessica swayed momentarily and then looked up to make eye contact with Gerard.

“You fucking prick. _You think you can hit a girl like that?”_

Jessica stepped up to Gerard, breathing heavily, keeping torso to torso with him, “fucking wife beater,” she growled, before cupping her hand around Gerard’s jaw and bringing his chin upwards.

“Now you listen here, little prick faggot sonofabitch. Don’t you fucking lay a finger on me, I will fucking _kill_ you. Do you think I’m fucking around?”

“N-no, ma’am.” The rims of Gerard’s eyes started to water.

“I fucking hate entitled faggots like you,” Jessica brought her lips to Gerard’s neck, and bit down.

“What are you—what are you doing?” The colour had since drained from his face. Jessica brought her fingers to the zipper of his jeans.

“Come on, you’re not really gay, baby. Don’t say that, just shh.”

“Jessica—”

“Be quiet,” Jessica worked to bring the zipper down on his jeans, never leaving Gerard’s neck.

Just outside the hall Frank was climbing out of the ring. The referee was being wheeled away. He cried for his mother. Teddyfoot had left after it was announced that there would be no rematch. Frank stepped around the concrete floors, a bodyguard following close in foot. Frank, five foot four as was, would still bet his last dollar that he didn’t need anyone—especially _a bodyguard_ —for protection.

“Serge,” Frank looked up to the man in a black suit and an ear piece running behind his head, “Serge, not only are you a cliché, but your glasses are too small for your face and I don’t need you to defend me.”

“No English. Please come shower.” Serge was new. From Russia.

“Serge, please. You mean well I know. But I can make my own way to the shower.”

“Come to shower.”

“Serge—”

“Boss man say to call him if you give trouble. I call.”

“Serge no! No, no! It’s okay, it’s okay I’ll come to shower, please don’t call Ray.”

“Come to shower.”

Frank walked to the bathroom and stripped of his boxing shorts. He passed them over the curtain to Serge and asked him to put them in his black duffel bag and to return with his street clothes. Serge nodded as if he knew exactly what he was doing and stepped out of the bathroom. He returned a few seconds later.

“What is it Serge?”

“Boss Man tell me not to leave you alone.”

“Serge _please go get my clothing,”_ Frank said between closed teeth and open lips. Serge balanced on his heel, then went to get Frank’s clothing.

Not long after Serge left, there was a knock on the door.

_“Serge, please go get my goddamn clothing right now.”_

“Uh…” Gerard pushed the door open a little ways a peeked his chin through.

“Oh!” Frank stepped forward and held his hand out, “hi tesoro, come in.”

“Who’s Serge?” Gerard asked, leaning against the tile.

“New body guard. Doesn't speak English much. Y’know Ray just files these guys in and out like it’s nothing I mean why the hell does he keep replacing them?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah I mean honestly, I think the longest I’ve kept a bodyguard is six months.”

Gerard scratched his temple, “well you don’t pester them, do you?”

“Of course not! I mean,” Frank spat some soap out of his mouth, “if they don’t listen to me, I might be a bit louder than I should, but y’know. They’re _my_ guards, they should be listening to me. And not even, like Ray says they only do things in my best interest, but honestly I think he’s got them all up to something.”

“I think you’re paranoid.”

“No, seriously. Not up to something about me. I mean the way these guys circulate in and out of here is insane don’t you think?”

“Uh huh…”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah. Got a lot on my mind.”

Frank poked his head through the curtains, “Awh, yeah? Like what? Lay it down.”

“No, no. Nothing really—pressing. Y’know. The usual.”

“Mmhm, you look sick. You’re pale, did you miss your meds today?”

“Huh?”

“I got a call from your doctor, he says your cholesterol is through the roof, he wants you to double up on those blue pills you take in the evenings.”

“Why would my doctor even call you?”

“Okay, well maybe I called him. You don’t tell me _anything_ about your checkups, I get concerned.”

“He isn’t allowed to tell you that information!”

“I bribed him.”

_“You what?”_

“I sent him and his wife lasagna. They loved it.”

_“His wife? His wife’s in it now, too?”_

“Yeah, she’s friends with Ray.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Shut up, stand still,” Frank reached a sopping wet hand from the shower and held it onto Gerard’s forehead.

“Frank, _ew!”_

“Be still,” he pressed his fingers down, “you don’t have a fever.”

“Your hand’s wet, it doesn’t work.”

“Whatever, at least I’m trying to help my _ill, ill lover_.”

“Of course. Now I’m all wet and soapy.”

“You should hop in and rinse off,” Frank winked and opened the curtain.

“No way. I’m not having sex in a warehouse bathroom. I saw a cockroach crawling down that very drain last week.”

“Who said we were having sex! I never said we were having sex! Mr. Hand, did you say we were having sex?” Frank clasped his fingers over his thumb to make a hand puppet. He looked at it, giving it regard as if it were human.

 _“Oh ho ho, I didn’t say it, for sure!”_ The hand said.

“You’re dumb and hard to deal with,” Gerard wiped his forehead with the edge of his shirt.

“You have a hairy stomach.” Frank smiled.

“I’ve seen your pubes,” Gerard said.

“You’re as pale as eggshells if I’ve ever seen them.”

“You have a scorpion tattooed on your neck, and honestly, it makes you look like a douchebag.”

“You win,” Frank resigned and twisted both taps off, reaching his arm out for a towel. Gerard passed it over. A knock on the door.

“That must be Serge,” Frank said, wiping his face first, “Just throw them in Serge, don’t bother opening the door, I’m naked.”

Serge dropped the entire duffel bag in, then stood outside the door.

“That’s perfect Serge, thank you!”

After Frank had dried off, dressed and combed his hair back, Serge walked the couple to their car. Frank got into the driver’s seat.

“So, aren’t you concerned that you uh, broke a guy’s arm tonight?” Gerard asked, running his fingers over the dashboard

“Causality, happens all the time.”

“Right.”

“I’ll send him flowers and an apology note I guess.”

“That’s a little gay,” Gerard said.

_“You’re a little gay.”_

“I’m a lotta gay.”

“Me too.”

There was comfortable silence for a few minutes. Frank flicked on the radio. Slow show tunes buzzed quietly as he drove a long an empty high way. He flicked the headlights from bright to dim. Frank wrapped his right hand around Gerard’s inner thigh. Gerard leaned his head back against the rest and fell into an easy sleep.

Home was a narrow three story building, built from maroon bricks and covered in bits of ivy, curling over the corners and hugging the windowsills. Frank and Gerard liked to garden together, but their annuals were far from blooming. A rabbit hopped along the concrete footpath that led to two grey steps, which then entered the doorway.

Frank squeezed Gerard’s thigh. Gerard did not wake, but smiled. Frank then got out of his own seat and walked around the car, and opened Gerard’s door, brushing his hand over his head.

“Come on, we’re home. Wake up.”

Gerard twitched and opened his eyes.

“You just twitched,” Frank laughed.

“Mm.” Gerard gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and made his way up the drive. Frank followed closely, then stepped in front, unlocking the door. Gerard shuffed his shoes off in the foyer and started up the stairs.

“I don’t even get a goodnight kiss?” Frank asked, heading to the kitchen first.

“Come to bed,” Gerard murmured, scratching his head. Frank turned the kitchen lights off and bounced up the stairs to meet him.

“You’re kinda sexy when you’re tired, you know,” Frank stood on his tip toes and whispered into Gerard ear.

“Mm, thank you,” Gerard kept walking along, into the bedroom, not flicking on the light.

“Let me see your body,” Frank pulled his shirt off and dropped it, then wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist from behind. He peppered Gerard’s back in kisses.

“Not in the mood, Frankie. Kinda tired,” Gerard yawned and tossed his shirt to the ground.

“Oh yeah, of course. Sleep close?”

“Where else would I go?” Gerard crawled under the covers and grabbed Frank’s wrist, pulling him in. Gerard’s phone buzzed on the woven bamboo night stand.

“Who’s that?” Frank asked. Gerard looked at the screen.

_We’re not done ;):201-692-4331_

Gerard slammed the phone face down, “Uh. Just my mom, saying goodnight.”

“Huh. Weird,” Frank opened his arms and Gerard graciously rolled in. Frank closed them and relished the feeling of having someone to hold, “I love you.”

“I love you more, Frankie.”

“I love you the most.” 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi my tumblr is http://glaringdad.tumblr.com/ i was gonna make some clever pun here but i can't think of any. follow me for my unconditional love
> 
> also shoutout to sophie for helping me format this you are so great
> 
> should i continue this as a multi chaptered fic or cut it at a oneshot, i do not know?? ???


End file.
